


Once, I Was Mighty

by in48frames



Category: Bomb Girls
Genre: Best Friends in Love, F/F, Leaving an Abusive Situation, Parental Abuse of an Adult, Using Religion for Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in48frames/pseuds/in48frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Betty knows in her gut and her heart that Kate is not safe and Betty is the only one who can save her. Set after season one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once, I Was Mighty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [metonymy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metonymy/gifts).



> This isn't quite sunshine and rainbows, but I really hope you enjoy it anyway. I loved writing for these two.
> 
> Warning: Discussion of canon abuse but absolutely no physical violence and limited discussion of injuries.

There are weeks of nothing. Weeks of Betty putting on her face every morning, working all day, and crying herself to sleep at night. When she closes her eyes, she sees the strap marks on Kate’s back—the look on Kate’s face when she walked away—her smile. If the situation were any different, she would tell herself to let go, move on, stop wallowing. But she knows—knows in her gut and her heart that Kate is not safe and Betty is the only one who can save her.

When she finally finds the note slipped under her door, her heart beat triples, fueled by ninety percent terror and ten percent wild hope. It reads, “Songbirds have landed Y/B.” That can only mean Yonge and Bloor and Betty wants to cry knowing that it’s on the streetcar line. The Preacher must have thought he’d gotten them far enough away from the general radius of Victory Munitions; he doesn’t know that Betty has friends in low places. Friends who might pay particular attention to certain street corners in the city and keep an eye out for a family that sticks out like a sore thumb.

The note crumples as her hands turn into fists, and she throws herself back on the bed, trying to be calm and think logistics. They’re going to need a bushel of luck and good timing, and that’s just the minimum. But it’s a start, and it’s more than she had this morning.

When she closes her eyes to sleep, she whispers a wish to whomever it is that doles out mercy: “Please let me save her.”

* * *

On their very next day off, Betty meets Gladys at the plant and they take the streetcar west. They had held to their promises and Gladys coming along was never in question; Betty is just hoping it will be enough.

Gladys dresses down and Betty dresses up (just a little) and they meet in the middle. A few blocks before the intersection, they hop off and try to look ordinary as they stroll cautiously forth along a midday-busy main street. At first sight of the family standing together and singing, they grab for each other’s hands and duck into a doorway. Betty peers out and assesses that Kate is not in fact with them. Mother, father, two brothers—accounted for. Hopefully this is their moment.

Crossing their fingers, Betty and Gladys circle around and walk the most direct path back from where the family is stationed, hoping they wouldn’t have wandered far from the nest.

A trailer parked at the back of a lot almost blends in to the fence behind it. Gladys and Betty exchange looks and approach slowly. From two metres they can hear the singing, though the sound is reedy and pale and tightens the knot in Betty’s stomach. She gestures for Gladys to stay there and keep watch (at least she hopes all that pointing accomplished something) and continues halting steps forward. Her shoes crunch on the gravel and the singing cuts off abruptly, so she crosses the last few feet in a stride.

Betty is surprised to find a deadbolt on the outside of the main door and no other fastening visible. She holds her breath, unlocks the deadbolt, and eases the door open.

Directly across from the door is a desk, over which is bent the back of a woman writing furiously. Her hair is tucked entirely under a cap and she doesn’t look up. Betty’s eyes make their way to her feet, where she finally sees the rope tied tightly around her ankle, biting into the flesh, and coiled around the leg of the desk, which itself is bolted to the floor. At that Betty rushes forward, falling to her knees beside the chair and saying, “Kate, what have they done to you?”

In a violent motion Kate startles and throws her body in the opposite direction. She winds up on the floor, rope connecting her foot to the table like an umbilical cord. The look on her face is pure fear. Betty lowers herself to the ground and raises her hands in supplication, her heart aching so fiercely she can hardly breathe.

“You can’t be here, what are you doing here, please leave.” Kate’s eyes dart between Betty and the door, though she doesn’t meet Betty’s eyes.

Trying to keep her voice steady and gentle, Betty says, “Gladys is keeping watch. She’ll give us plenty of warning if anyone comes our way.”

Kate’s hand goes to the knot at her ankle as if for reassurance; feeling that it is whole and undisturbed, she relaxes just slightly. She doesn’t look at Betty.

“Kate, what is this? He’s keeping you locked up in here?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Kate says quietly, no fight in her. “I’m following God’s plan.”

Betty inches forward, just trying to make eye contact, trying not to spook her. She gestures at the rope but doesn’t attempt to touch it. “You think your father’s punishments are God’s plan for you, Kate?”

“Sins require penance. I have sinned.”

Betty is silent for a moment. “I don’t know how much time we have. If we’re going to go, we need to move soon. But I’ve done some reading since you left. About this Jesus guy. If he were here, Kate, he would tell you to get the hell, excuse my French, out of this trailer and away from this man. Your father isn’t God, and he _certainly_ isn’t Jesus. Who says his word is law? Can you listen to what your gut is telling you? Can you trust in that?”

Kate finally meets her eyes and Betty feels like she can breathe again, even if those eyes look like they belong to a lost child.

“I’m scared,” Kate whispers.

Betty moves the last few inches forward and places her hand gently on the knot at Kate’s ankle, watching for her reaction. Kate bows her head in shame and Betty lays her other hand on Kate’s foot, just below the rope, trying to convey all the comfort of her love in this simple touch.

“I know you are. And I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But if you can trust me... trust in who I have been to you... a friend.” She works hard to make that word sound firm and strong. “If you can do that and remember the determination you felt that first day at the rooming house, I know that you can be free. To live your life according to your God, not your father’s. Not his strap. Not his fists. Not his—” she holds up the rope, “—bonds.” Betty stretches her hand cautiously forward, offering it to Kate. “Will you come?”

A bit of the life returning to her eyes, Kate turns away from the hand but begins to pick at the knot. Betty tries not to let the pang she feels show on her face as she drops her hand and then turns quickly to the kitchen, finding what passes for a sharp knife. She returns slowly, pointing the knife at the floor and offering the handle to Kate.

Leaving the knot, Kate leans back and puts up her hands, saying, “You might as well do it. I don’t have the strength.”

Kneeling in front of her, Betty feels gently around the knot, noticing the burned skin where the rope was pulled tight. She carefully saws at the knot, cutting through a few thick fibres at a time.

Kate hisses and brings her fist to her mouth, biting on a knuckle.

Without looking up, Betty asks, “Why did he...?”

“It was a trust exercise,” Kate replies, voice tight. “If I didn’t try to escape, I was ‘rewarded.’ One less stroke.”

Betty’s hands still and she has to take a deep breath before she can continue. She says softly, “You were good,” and swallows hard. Then, “Your hair?”

Kate’s hand goes automatically to the bonnet. “He didn’t dare cut it—that would surely punish me but also make me look like a deviant, which obviously wouldn’t do for him. But I was prideful about it, so he made my mother tuck it all under this cap. I only let it down to bathe. I’m sure I would have learned invaluable lessons in humility had I ever left the trailer or seen a mirror.” She sighs.

“And the desk?” Betty says, mostly to distract herself from the horror of what she’s really doing.

“Copying chapters out of the Bible—Old Testament only. That one you could’ve guessed.”

Betty looks up to see what could almost be called an impression of a smile on Kate’s face. She almost-smiles back and cuts through the last fibres of the rope. She gently uncoils it from Kate’s leg, wincing as the skin pulls away. It leaves a red, raw strip behind, and Betty eyes it as a little blood wells up.

“I don’t suppose your father keeps a first aid kit stocked?”

“Not him, but my mother... It’s in the kitchen drawer, under the dish towels.”

Betty fetches the supplies and gently as she can cleans and bandages the wound. She looks at Kate for a moment before saying, “Is there anything else...?”

Kate blushes and ducks her head, shaking it ‘no.’ Betty doesn’t quite believe her but they’ve been in the trailer for far longer than she feels comfortable with, so she moves on to, “If there’s anything you want to take with you...” and Kate points her to her suitcase, still packed.

Kate herself sits down at the desk to write a quick note to her mother. ‘I love you. I’m sorry. Be safe. We will see one another again someday.’ She hides it among the bandages in the first aid kit, praying that her mother will see it and forgive her.

At the door, Betty says, “Are you ready?” and Kate pauses. Her hands both go to her bonnet and she unties and unpins it. Her hair falls down creased and rumpled, but Kate shakes her head and feels the weight, then nods. “Ready.”

Betty goes ahead down the steps, turning back to offer her hand to Kate, who ducks her head and watches her step. Betty withdraws her hand once more and orders herself to stop acting foolish. At least, so visibly foolish. She tucks her hands in her coat pockets and watches as Gladys and Kate reunite.

Gladys is saying, “I was jumping out of my skin out here,” and Kate is hugging her tightly.

Betty turns back to the trailer and decides to re-lock the deadbolt, not that it would buy them any more than seconds. As casual as she can be (not very), Betty leads them off; Kate requests an arm from Gladys as she’s unsteady on her feet. Betty marches ahead with her head down, taking a few twists and turns to land them at a streetcar stop far enough away from the family that they should be safe.

On the streetcar Kate sits at the window, her fingers to the glass. She says, “He’ll know where to find me this time,” and Betty and Gladys exchange a glance.

Gladys says, “You’ll let us protect you though, won’t you?”

Kate leans her head against the cool glass and murmurs, “I’ll try.”

* * *

At the plant, Kate stands and stares up at the building as if she’s never seen it before. She looks small; her shoulders hunch up slightly and she looks to Betty and Gladys for reassurance.

The rooming house having rented out Kate’s room, she is presented with two options: go home with Gladys, where she’ll have to endure the polite questions and niceties of her wealthy parents, or stay in Betty’s room until another opens up.

Kate looks questioningly at Betty. “Are you sure...?”

“Of course.” That’s not entirely true.

“In that case, I’ll take you up on it. That place almost feels like home by now.”

Betty tries not to take that personally but she does, oh she does.

Upon arrival, they stand awkwardly in the entryway for a moment. Kate asks to take a bath; as soon as the bathroom door closes, Betty starts walking circles around the room. When the water stops running, Betty walks up to the door and presses her palm silently to the wood. She turns and slides to the floor with her back to the door.

“Kate?” She holds her breath and hears only the gentle sloshing of the water. She waits a moment, just to know exactly what she wants to say, and then she says it. “I want you to know that I am and have been and will always be the person that you learned to trust so confidently over the months of our friendship. I am the person you could tell your secrets to, and dance with, and work next to. Even if what I did was wrong—” She nearly sobs out loud and has to take a pause. “—even if what I _am_ is wrong—I haven’t changed, and I hope you can see that.” She leans her head back against the door and tries to catch her breath. Her hands are shaking and she’s about to get up and cross the room when she feels a weight at her back. She holds her breath again, and waits.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Kate says, her voice inches away, so quiet it barely makes it past the door. “Those were my father’s words, not mine. You deserved so much better than that— _I’m sorry_.”

Betty closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then gets up and walks over to sit on the bed. Kate emerges from the bathroom in pyjamas with damp hair, and they regard each other gravely.

“Would you like me to find somewhere else to sleep?”

“ _No_ ,” Kate says, her face reflecting her opinion of that idea. “I do know you. And I think—” She rubs one hand up and down the opposite arm. “I think I’ll feel safer with you here. Is that okay?”

Betty smiles just a little. “Of course,” she says, and goes into the washroom to change. When she returns, Kate has made herself at home in the bed. On her way over, Betty shuts off the overhead light and picks up a thick book from the dresser. At the edge of the bed, she holds up the book for Kate to see—The Holy Bible. “Care for a bedtime story?”

Kate stretches her cramped fingers but looks intrigued. “I’m not sure...”

“I really like this one.”

The note of pleasure in Betty’s voice is enough for Kate to squeeze her pillow, close her eyes, and say, “Okay.”

Gingerly Betty lifts the covers and sits at the top of the bed, keeping as much physical distance between them as possible. Still she can feel the heat coming from Kate’s body; still it fills her heart up to bursting.

As she reads by the light of the lamp, Betty’s voice is soft and soothing, rising and falling in steady rhythms. She never heard Kate’s father preach, but she could imagine his style from the way he spoke to her (and struck her); it was so far from how she read it to herself. Aloud, it sounds like a poem and a lullaby in one.

“Bow down thine ear, O Jehovah, and answer me; For I am poor and needy. Preserve my soul; For I am godly: O thou my God, save thy servant that trusteth in thee. Be merciful unto me, O Lord; For unto thee do I cry all the day long. Rejoice the soul of thy servant; For unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul.” Betty pauses here, putting extra weight on the next two lines. “For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive, And abundant in lovingkindness unto all them that call upon thee.” Kate’s back is to Betty and she places her palm gently there, where she knows the scars hide under her shirt. “Give ear, O Jehovah, unto my prayer; And hearken unto the voice of my supplications. In the day of my trouble I will call upon thee; For thou wilt answer me.

“I will praise thee, O Lord my God, with my whole heart; And I will glorify thy name for evermore. For great is thy lovingkindness toward me; And thou hast delivered my soul from the lowest Sheol. O God, the proud are risen up against me, And a company of violent men have sought after my soul, And have not set thee before them.”

Here comes the big finish, and what she hopes Kate will hear. “But thou, O Lord, art a God merciful and gracious, Slow to anger, and abundant in lovingkindness and truth. Oh turn unto me, and have mercy upon me; Give thy strength unto thy servant, And save the son of thy handmaid. Show me a token for good, That they who hate me may see it, and be put to shame, Because thou, Jehovah, hast helped me, and comforted me.” Slow to anger, she thinks. Abundant in lovingkindness.

When she comes to the end, Kate is breathing slow and deep. Betty sets the book down on the floor, switches off the lamp, and slides down in the bed. Just as she’s deciding to stop staring at the back of Kate’s head and sleep, she hears a drowsy Kate say, “You must know I do love you. As a friend.”

Betty dips her head toward the nape of Kate’s neck, her soft “I know” a breath that has barely been formed into words.

She sleeps deeply that night, knowing that above all, Kate is finally safe. Kate is safe and within arm’s reach and safe, and one part of her is letting go. There are other parts, but tonight this will do.

* * *

In the morning Betty wakes slowly, finding that the space between their two bodies has vanished and her cheek is pressed into Kate’s neck, face under her hair. Before she’s even fully awake, before she can think to slip away unnoticed, Betty’s eyes start seeping tears. A few drop to Kate’s neck before Betty pulls away, rolling over and covering her face with her hands. She isn’t shaking or sobbing; she isn’t even consciously upset; but the tears don’t let up.

Kate places her hand on her shoulder and says, “Betty,” softly.

Betty wipes at her face and turns onto her back, smiling. “Oh, I’m fine. This is just my daily routine. I’m sorry you have to witness it.”

Sitting up, Kate wraps her arms around her knees, looking disturbed. After a moment, she says, “Is there anything I can do?”

Betty sits up as well, seeing Kate’s back. “You’re safe. That’s the important part. The rest will come with time.”

Looking back over her shoulder, Kate says, “And what’s the rest?”

Betty twists her mouth and doesn’t immediately respond.

Turning to face her, Kate tentatively reaches for one of her hands. “Is this all my fault? All of it?”

“ _No_.” Betty’s hand tightens reflexively on Kate’s. “None of this is your fault. My feelings are my feelings and your father...” She waves her hand, dismissing that possibility outright.

“I hate that I have so many beliefs I can’t even explain. It feels like I’m wearing blinders, like I’ve been wearing them all my life.”

“That will take time, too. You will learn which beliefs are yours and you will live them with grace. If there’s one thing that is true about you, Kate, it’s that you have a good heart. You’ll find your way.”

“And you’ll be by my side, right?” Kate smiles hopefully, and Betty’s heart stutters in her chest.

“Always.”

There is too much emotion in that, so Betty drops her hand and gets up off the bed. She moves to her dresser as if to prepare for the day, really just buying time. But when she looks back, Kate is rubbing at her shoulders with a pained look on her face, and Betty has to deliberate the wisdom of her next move.

Like she has a choice: “Can I help?”

“I hate to ask—”

“Sounded to me like I offered.”

Kate half-smiles. “All right then. It’s all that time spent hunched over that desk. I can’t believe how tight my muscles are.” She slides to the edge of the bed and sits with her legs dangling down, waiting for Betty.

A bit apprehensively, Betty climbs on to the bed and kneels behind Kate, sitting on her heels. She smoothes the length of Kate’s hair over one of her shoulders, placing one hand on either side of her neck. Her thumbs stroke down the line of Kate’s spine, and then she begins to knead the knots and stiff muscles. Kate relaxes and hums under her hands, and Betty closes her eyes.

Sounding far away, Kate says, “What is it like?”

Opening her eyes and frowning, still working at her shoulders, Betty says, “What is what like?”

“Being in love. What is it like?”

Betty gives that a minute as she focuses on her hands and tries to ignore the burning in the bottom of her stomach. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Okay.” Kate leans forward, out of Betty’s hands, and looks at her hands in her lap. “It’s just that I don’t really have a frame of reference for this sort of thing. I’d like to have some kind of idea of what you’re experiencing. But that’s too much to ask, I understand, I’m sorry.” She starts to turn around but Betty puts her hands back on her shoulders to keep her in place.

“Hold on. I’ll answer, but I think it’ll be easier if you stay there.” She smoothes her hands down Kate’s back and then pulls them into her lap. She sits back on the bed and crosses her legs, watching Kate’s neck and thinking of how to put this. Finally she just closes her eyes and goes for it. “It’s kind of like there’s a fist inside your chest, around your heart, and it’s squeezing tight. Sometimes it’s all the time; sometimes it lets up when you’re around them; sometimes that’s when it squeezes most fiercely. Still you want to be around them all the time, and when you are you wish you could touch them. When you’re in love... you feel like you’re perfect, and the other person is perfect, and your love is perfect, so perfect that it was always meant to be that way and you’re fulfilling your destiny.

“I guess that’s where I made my mistake. I’d never done this before... I didn’t know...”

Her voice ends on a wistful note and she hears a sniffle coming from Kate. Throwing caution to the wind, Betty leans forward and hugs her from behind, resting her chin on Kate’s shoulder. As she thought, Kate is crying.

“Hey, now. Don’t be like that. We have our health.”

Kate bursts into damp laughter. “I’ll drink to that.” She wipes at her face with the hem of her shirt and turns in Betty’s arms to face her. Without one of them moving further away, they’re now nose-to-nose.

Betty feels like she’s playing chicken with her own urges. It would take a case of amnesia for her to seriously consider attempting to kiss Kate again, yet here she is and all she can think is _don’t kiss her don’t kiss her don’t kiss her_. She should move away, but Kate is in her arms and she can’t be the one to let go.

Then Kate surprises her. As shy as she seems to the outside world, she says what she wants when she knows what she wants, and it sounds like she knows it now: “I would like to try again.”

Betty plays dumb, although calling it ‘playing’ is generous. She was wrong the last time, and she’s not going to be wrong again. So she laughs a little and turns her face to the side and doesn’t _want_ anything.

Kate brings her hands up to either side of Betty’s jaw, gently turning her face back, and looks her in the eye. “I want to try again. Okay?”

Barely breathing, not moving, Betty stares back. But Kate is waiting for an answer, so she forces herself to nod quickly. As if there could be any other answer. But she can’t do anything else, so it is Kate who bridges the distance, Kate who brings their mouths together, and properly this time. Their eyes fall shut and they stay inside this first kiss, this one kiss that was never meant to be.

When they break apart, Kate presses her forehead to Betty’s and whispers, “I can’t believe I let him fool me. I feel so stupid, Betty. I did all the wrong things and left behind everything that mattered because he told me he was sorry. How can you forgive me?”

“And abundant in lovingkindness and truth,” Betty replies. “Just don’t leave again, and we’re square.” She looks through her eyelashes at Kate, too near to even focus on, and smiles that sideways smile of hers. “Work for you?”

In response, Kate kisses her again. It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.


End file.
